Adoration
by Raquel Aratsume
Summary: This is the unwritten story of the new underclassmen at Easton, and breaks away from the Private series just before Paradise Lost. Dueve, Jaden, Becca, Monet, and Lissa, struggle to find the meaning of friendship and love in the midst of death and the return of Sabine DuLac.
1. Monet: 1

** MGL**

My brand-new Mercedes Benz pulls to a calm stop in front of the Easton gates, and all the air I've been sucking to calm my bubbling nerves escapes me in a hurried screech. Easton is as beautiful and glorious as ever. _Calm down, Monet_. I tell myself instinctively. It's not like I'm some freshman. I'm a sophomore. Sophomore. There's some serious tangibility in the word, like I can feel my future almost in my grasp. And it is _almost_, almost there. The gates ease open, slightly squeaking on their rusting hinges. I cruise through the gates eagerly, my Gucci sunglasses concealing my uber-eager expression. A few mingling freshmen gape at me, and I smirk knowingly. I'd been them last year, and it feels good to be ahead of the 9th graders now. I take in another deep, soothing breath, and pull up to the curb, allowing my promised chauffeur (who'd met me at Easton) to deliver my few bags to my old dorm at Bradwell. It had been a trying summer, and, as I hate to admit, I hadn't been shopping as much as I'd hoped to in Barcelona.

Reginald opens the door for me attentively, and quickly bounds to the trunk, where he retrieves my four meager Louis Vuitton suitcases. We stride towards Bradwell casually, and I pull my phone out of my DKNY purse, awaiting a text from my best friend, Lissa Arnold. My iPhone gleams with 'You have one new message.' I smile knowingly, and press the 'OK' button.

**R U here yet? Get ur butt 2 bradwell NOW! **

**calm down Barbie **** heading to bradwell now. **I reply, and shove my phone back into my purse. The familiar sound of pump against pavement lulls me back to reality, and I turn my head slightly, admiring the blooming gardens surrounding the campus. The slight early autumn breeze ruffles through my trimmed black curls, and I feel myself smile once again. I'm a smiling machine today, it seems. I have a lot to be happy about. As my thoughts begin to drift, a tan, muscled arm pulls me around in a dizzy tumble, and I practically fall into Thompson's awaiting arms. I let my head linger on his chest for a second longer than need be, and breathe in his spicy cologne. I pull my head up, and smile into his gleaming emerald eyes.

"_Ciao, amore_," He says adoringly.

"Hello to you, too." I laugh, and peck him on the cheek. My lips graze his stubbled cheeks, and I rub my thumb across them, frowning playfully. "Looks like _someone _forgot to shave."

"Sorry, _diletto._" Thompson murmurs, and loops his fingers through mine. And they fit, perfectly. Perfect is the word to describe us. We're practically meant for each other. Yeah, I know, fairy-tale ending much? But I am, totally and completely. And Thompson Renaldi is my Prince Charming in a world of ugly, ugly ogres.

"Miss?" Reginald's humble, deluded voice asks me. I glance at him, and nod expectantly.

"Yes, Reginald?"

"Shall I deposit these at your dorm and leave you with Mr. Renaldi?"

"Yes." I agree, and blush as Thompson pulls me slightly closer to him.

"Have a good school year, Ms. Gonzalez-Larenzo." Reginald murmurs, smiling at me wanly.

"Thanks, Reggie." I murmur, and let Thompson lead me in the direction opposite Bradwell. Lissa would have to wait. Thompson and I had some catching up to do.


	2. Dueve: 1

**DCF**

I lick my lips uncertainly, and follow my ever knowledgeable sister Diane into Easton's underclassmen female dorm, Bradwell. The scuffed wooden flooring and worn Victorian wallpaper remind me of our grandmother's winter home in Albany, New York, not a boarding school dorm house. Diane smiles at me encouragingly, but I can see the mock annoyance of having to instruct me on daily Easton life. _Don't worry, sis. I don't want to be here either. _

"Mrs. Lattimer is your dorm mother, so don't be afraid to ask her if you need like, anything." Diane says, and sweeps her wavy dark curls off of her shoulder casually. "You know where to find me, right?"

"Billings Hall, room 7a." I repeat, my voice sounding mechanical and automatic. She'd programmed those words into my mind the last 72 hours before arriving at Easton. "Don't worry, Di, I'll be _fine_."

"I'm not worried. It's just you know how Mom will take back my allowance if I don't help you out." She sighs, and envelopes me in a crushing embrace. "Good luck, Dueve."

"Thanks?" I laugh, and pat her back gruffly, my way of saying, _Let GO! _

"See you…" Diane murmurs, and exits Bradwell. I finger my own dark poufy curls, and enter my room. My half of the room is full of pastels, light pinks, yellows, greens, and blues on my quilt, dresser, and posters adorning the placid white walls, while my roommate's, a tall, slender French girl, had plastered hers with neon splatter stickers, and a bold black comforter with words decorated on top in neon pink, blue, and yellow Puffy paint. I sink onto my bed, and release a loud, exasperated sigh. What am I doing at this rich-girl pretty-girl school? I may be rich, but I am not pretty, definitely not like my sisters, model perfect Chyenne, exotic looking Primabella, and vanilla Diane. I'm the ebony sister of the Foresteir clan, the dark as night girl with untamable poufy curls. I gnaw unknowingly on my index fingernail, and turn on my laptop.

I pull up the Easton Chronicles newsletter, and scroll up and down the daily information of the town of Easton, Connecticut. Not very interesting. New fishing contest at the harbor. The revival of a boutique on Ignatius Street. _Boring. _Where was the juicy hardcore gossip Diane had lamented to me last year? Well, this year there would hopefully be no more murderers/psychopaths at Easton, or Billings Hall, the exclusive upperclassmen dorm famous for producing politicians, lawyers, and psychopath crazy half-sisters, Arianna Osgood and Sabine DuPont. I hoped they hadn't returned this year like Noelle Lange…or this would be one crazy school year.


	3. Becca: 1

**BSA**

I jog down the familiar cobblestone path leading to Bradwell, smiling at the refreshing breeze. These are the perfect days, the days I long to be running through Easton's ivy-trellised campus. I pass my sister's best friend, Monet, and her Italian boyfriend, who sit on a worn stone bench lip locking, immersed in one another. Monet pulls away to draw in a sharp breath of needed air, and waves at my coyly. With a smooth lick of her lips she says, "Hey, Becca."

I stop jogging momentarily, and wave back. "What's up, Monet?"

"Oh you know," She smirks, running her thumb across her puffing lips. "The usual."

"See you back at Bradwell." I smile wanly, and continue on. Monet was always a bit too snarky for my taste, but she was Lissa's best friend, meaning I had to at least be civil to the girl. Monet and I had a mutual dislike of each other, and usually steered clear of each other. It worked out better that way, especially with Lissa shared between the two of us.

The tumbling maroon and sunset orange leaves soar among the crystal blue sky, and I grin once again. Easton is magnificent.

As I round another corner, my Blackberry buzzes in my sweats' pocket. I tug it out grudgingly, and smile at the text from Hamlet, my best friend.

**just arrived E. meet me Ketlar? ****J**

My face flushes, although there's no one to see it.

**Give me 5 min. finishing my run. **I reply quickly, and shove my phone back into my pocket. Hamlet and I had hung out a lot over the summer, mainly on Venice Beach, since my mom was based in L.A with her record company for the summer months. Apparently it boosted her "street rec" when she was spotted in the early morning, stoned and delusional with a guy who was _not_, I repeat, _not_, her husband. My father, the acclaimed television court judge, David Lattimer, lived in New York City full time, since that was where his "courtroom" was at NBC studios. Dad was caring and sentimental, and checked up on my sister and I weekly. Mom and I rarely ever spoke, whether she was stoned or not. Lissa was Mom's favorite, mainly because they shared the same smooth, porcelain colored skin, while Dad and I had oily coffee colored skin. Lissa and I were the famous mixed Arnold twins, two sisters who looked almost exactly  
alike.

I round Easton's campus once more, and stop abruptly at Ketlar House. Hamlet Greene smiles at me broadly, and shakes his scruffy ebony hair out of his keen, amber eyes.

"Hey, Bec." He grins, and pulls me into a welcoming hug. I pull away from him nervously, but smile back.

"Hey, Ham." I laugh. Hamlet sticks his tongue out at me playfully, and I smirk. "How's everything?"

'Everything' is our code word for, _'how's everything with your crappy family'_?

"Um…" Hamlet mumbles, and sinks down onto the smartly cut grass. "Helena's engaged to her playboy boyfriend and Rob's-"

I gape at him unbelievingly. "Helena is _what_?"

"I know." He mutters, and lets out a breathy sigh. "But apparently she just _loves_ Simon, so, she's becoming Mrs. Simon Asterfield."

"Well, you know what we have to do, right?" I grin, my face turning maniacal. "Crash the wedding."

Hamlet chuckles, and bats my arm playfully. "I wish,"

"I'm serious!" I protest, and slap him gently on the wrist. "But it'd be _so _weird if we spoke when they say, "Speak now or forever hold your peace?""

He laughs heartily now, and replies, "They'd probably think you were lesbian."

"Probably." I agree, and lean back onto the grass. My eyelids flutter shut momentarily, and I take another deep breath. I can feel Hamlet lay on the grass beside me, and our hands find one another's' instinctively.

"How's everything with you?" Hamlet asks, his voice soft and sincere. I crack open one eyelid and blush at the sight of his approaching lips.

"Um...busy, you could say. Dad's starting a new season, and Mom's…" My voice catches, as it always does when I say 'Mom'. "She's working on a new album."

"Lissa helping her out with the vocals?"

I snort at this, and shake my head. "Not this time." A fresh wave of hatred surges through me, and I bite back the words I've been retaining for so long, once again. I check my watch, and let out my last scheduled sigh of the afternoon. 3:27pm.

"I better go." I murmur, and give him a goodbye hug. "See you at dinner."

"See you." He smiles, and waves as I jog into the shimmering distance.


	4. Jaden: 1

**JOM**

My fingers curl around the worn black receiver, a lump rising slowly in my parched throat.

"Jaden?" My mother's thickly accented voice pours out of the receiver, and I suck in a deep breath, so I can speak once again.

"Yes, Mother?" I mumble, my free hand fingering the long, dangling cord that connects the receiver to the payphone box.

"Darling, I just…" Her voice stalls, and I can hear my younger sister's shrieking cries in the background. "Would it be alright if I called you back?"

"Of course." I say, and feign a yawn. "Have to get to the dining hall anyway, it's almost time for dinner."

"Yes, well…I hope you enjoy your time there, _chérie_. We miss you."

"I miss you all as well." My voice cracks and I feel a tingling on my cheek as a tear slides down it. _Why did they make me leave? _"Give everyone a kiss from me."

"I will." Mother promises, her words sounding solemn and weary. "I love you."

"I know." I whisper, and hang the phone back up.

I swallow back the burbling anxiety and sadness, and stride briskly into the cool New England twilight. I follow the throngs of students toward the dining hall, and accept a bowl of frothy soup. I find myself in search of a seat among the masses, and glance around nervously. My roommate, a dark skinned girl, waves at me, a wan smile on her face.

"Jaden? Jaden!" A chorus of female voices cries, and I gape at the girls surrounding my roommate. I wave shyly, and sit down beside my roommate.

"Your name's Jaden?" My roommate asks, her eyes bright with curiosity.

"Yes." I reply coolly, and frown at her. "You are Dueve, correct?"

"Y-Yes. Yeah, I'm Dueve." She blushes, and her light brown eyes perk adamantly. "Dueve Forestier."

"I love your mom's books." I smile.

Dueve snorts obnoxiously, and then instantly reddens once again. "Doesn't everyone?"

I nod agreeably, and shovel a spoonful of soup into my mouth. The burning broth instantly burns my tongue, and I bite back a shriek.

"Careful," Another girl warns, a smirk set of her porcelain face. Her large, doe-like amber eyes stare at me maniacally. "It's hot."

"Thanks," I seethe, and dab a linen napkin at my lips.

The girl smirks broadly now, and flips her electric blue bangs out of her eyes. "No prob."

"That's Bailey." A petite, blonde girl scoffs. "Always there to help."

"Shut up, Matty." Bailey snaps, and scowls at the girl.

"I'm just saying," Matty shrugs, pursing her plump mauve lips together. "You could be a bit nicer if you tried."

"I doubt she has any nice in her body," Dueve murmurs in my ear. I laugh quietly, and smile at the girl I thought to be timid and sweet. We were all snarky, rude, and spoiled on the inside, although some of us knew how to cover that up better than others.

"That's why I don't try." Bailey retorts smoothly. "Too much work."

"Too much work?" Matty gapes. "It's much easier than being mean."

"And how would _you_ know? You're never nice." A slender, auburn haired girl guffaws.

"Shut _up_, Erica." Matty and Bailey chorus, glaring at one another instead of the girl.

I roll my eyes, and take another spoonful of soup. Dueve munches elegantly on a ham and cheese Panini while flipping through a worn paperback.

"What're you reading?" I ask, turning the book so I can see the cover.

"_Emma_." Dueve smiles shyly. "By Jane Austen."

"I never understood her books," Matty shrugs, taking a swig from her water bottle. "They always took me like, _forever_ to finish."

"It's that old English." Erica drawls, twirling a lock of sleek auburn hair around her finger. "Drives me _insane_."

"I know, right?" Matty laughs breathily, and licks her lips. She pulls out her iPhone and lets out a shrill shriek. "Ohmygosh, you guys!"

"What?" We all ask.

"Quinn Westminster is coming to _Easton!_" Matty cries, waving her hands in the air excitedly. Quinn Westminster? The famous super-hot lead singer of the English boy-band, Rain? I can almost feel a dozen girls swoon, and smile in spite of myself. The Quinn Westminster is coming to our school. Gen will be _so_ jealous.


End file.
